In Another Life
by BollyCakesHogwarts
Summary: A failed revival in 2012 leaves Evelyn Night, well, dead. But not.. Infact she's suddenly roaming the streets of 1993 London and renting a house from a mysterious Ben Carlton. After making a few mates, Lizzie, Arthur, Annie and Noel, Evelyn is given the life she always wanted. But how will she live in the past knowing she won't make it in the future?
1. Chapter 1

It had started out with a few blots on my vision. The little spots in the corners of my eyes were the size of a full stop. I didn't pay any attention at first. I just assumed it was because I was tired. I was wrong.

After about a week of me flinching at nothing, which turned out to be just another speck, my mum booked me an appointment at the opticians. He looked into my eye, shining a light bright enough to make me go blind, and frowned.

"I think she just needs glasses, and a few good nights sleep. Try and stay away from TVs and computers, and limit the time spent on your phone. I think your eyes are straining from constant exposure to lights, specifically screens." I was dismissed with a pair of nerd glasses and a ban from TV. The optician thought it was lights. He said I would get better from a nights sleep. He was wrong.

It was 3 days after the glasses were issued that I got the headaches. They were horrible. I spent most of those three days at school with my head on the table, fingers in my ears. I was so sensitive to sound that I cried when my friends spoke in more than a whisper. Dad decided it was time to go to the doctors. He took me down on the Thursday morning, straight after Maths. The doctor had scratched his head, looking at me.

"Stay out of school for a bit, at least until Monday. Try and sleep as much as you can and drink a lot of water. This should keep your brain nice and refreshed." The doctor had thought the headaches where caused by stress. He thought they would be gone by Monday. He was, again, wrong.

It was on Saturday morning when it became clear what was happening to me. I collapsed, falling forward straight onto the wooden floor in the dining room. There was nothing to prevent my fall and my head had a nasty lump. I was very dizzy and was throwing up everywhere.

The doctor I had never had before knew first. He was the first to see the result of the scan on my brain to see if I had a concussion. He came in to my room in the hospital, looking as somber as a grave. He motioned to my mum and dad to step outside to have a word with him. When they entered the room after five long minutes, I sat up on my pillows, due to the fact that my parents were both white as sheets and tears were forming in their eyes.

"I'm afraid you have quite a serious problem, Evelyn, your brain has a clot, quite near the centre which is causing the headaches. Good news is that our medication will stop the headaches and the eye problems. The bad news is that we cannot stop it indefinitely and it will probably get more serious. Due to this fact, you cannot leave the hospital until we can diagnose what it is. There will be a lovely room prepared for you in the youth ward." He smile and left me with my parents, all of us shocked and confused about what would happen to me in the end.

2 weeks later, I was hooked up to a complicated machine, being fed a wide array of drugs. I had seen nearly every single one of my friends from school, clubs and the village, my family had all come, all 47 of them. There was one person who I hadn't seen come. And I doubted I ever would. They were the first person I told, and they said they would be the last to see me in a hospital bed. It was pointless wasting what ever wishes I had left on a promise I knew they would keep. But I wanted to see their face, because I was struggling seeing now. Everything was faded grey and the tunnel I saw around my head was blocking the view of the pictures I had pinned around my private room I got last week. My arm skimmed lightly across the sheet until my thin fingers made contact with the object I was searching for.

The blank text I sent wasn't an accident, I was a signal. The recipient knew what it meant as much as I did. The smiling faces of me and my friends one beautiful April shone threw the web of tears. Nothing I did now could make them smile as much as then. It had been the rest of my life back then. Now the rest of my life was this, medicine and white rooms. Ill never see that beautiful British sky in the summer. Why had I complained on all those rainy days? It had been only a month ago I had been sitting at home waiting for a holiday from the daily routine of school, now it all felt like a dream.

My eyes were playing with the contrast, making photos blurry so I couldn't make out faces. The white was burningly bright, making me blink. A figure ran in from the corridor as I slipped away. I could only just make out the colour of their blue eyes as they hovered over me. I had always loved those eyes.

"I loved your eyes too, sweetie. Now come on, there's no way your leaving this hospital in a coffin. That's so mainstream darling. Hang on. For me? Please?" I hadn't realise the comment had been said out loud. My sense where failing, I couldn't smell the disinfectant of the hospital anymore. My fingers had gone numb, so the only way I knew that my hand was being held was because I just managed to see it. I never wanted to hurt them, all of them. My family. My friends. And especially not the person frantically saying my name until their voice cracked, panic filling there movements much more than it should. If anyone should be panicking surely it should be me? Poor little Evelyn, always lost and then in her final moments, not even bothering to mutter some wise words to the person sobbing their heart out at her bedside. I smiled, that what they had always thought that I was lost. That my biggest wish was to join the land of the dead. It hadn't been my wish, but it was happening anyway. Wasn't I lucky?

My vision slipped away, but I could still hear the sobs of the only person who had ever mattered. I wanted to put my arms round them, look at them clearly one last time, and say it would be okay. And maybe it would? Maybe there would be a sudden rush of nurses, and I would be dramatically resuscitated. I didn't want to die really. I want to carry on living. My mouth couldn't move, so I said it to anyone in the building who could read minds. Or maybe I was saying it to a God I had never believed in.

I don't want to die. Be this my final wish. I want to see them again. I want another chance to live. I want to be able to take their hand. I want them to tell me they love me, just once more. And I want to be able to say it back.

"Evelyn, I love you. Please come back? Please? I love you! I always have! You know I have! PLEASE!" My lips wouldn't move. I couldn't say that I had been the same, forever loving them, right up till now, my final moment. Come on brain, move those lips. Form those words.

"I-" But all there was, was silence. I tried again

"I-" Silence. I had to reply, even if it was in my mind, as my thoughts slipped.

"I love you too, always will, stay with me forever,-"

"-you're mine." It took a minute to realise that I had managed to say it out loud. Well at least the last bit.

"Excuse me, what was that my dear?" My eyelids flicked open. I was alive. I was standing up. I was, well I was in the middle of an apartment. I didn't recognise my surroundings.

There were boxes standing in many piles around the stairs that led upstairs, helping me come to the conclusion that I was on the ground floor. I looked down in my hand. I was holding a wad of pound notes. I blinked. I was dreaming surely? I rubbed my forehead, relieved that the pounding headache that had inhibited it for just under a month had disappeared. The woman standing opposite me spoke again, making me aware of her presence.

"Look, I need to catch a train, and so do you. So here's the address of your new apartment for when you arrive in London. The landlady will be expecting you around 6, so you're already cutting it a bit fine. So ill take my wages, and be off. Make sure you hand the key to the estate agent on the way out." She took the money out of my hand, and replaced it with a key, a purse and a little bit of paper. She smiled at me. Noticing the small badge on her cleaning uniform I said,

"Thank you, Belinda. Urm, should I call you when I get there?" She set off out of the room, looking back to say,

"Well why would you do that, dear? I'm not staff anymore. Call your uncle. He will make sure your alright, I'm sure, after the untimely departure of your parents?" After one more motherly smile, she was gone out of the front door, leaving me dazed and confused. What had just happened? One part of my brain was saying "Well, you were dying on a hospital bed, dumbass." but the other, louder part was saying "You just paid you maid off and your about to move to London after the premature death of your parents, remember silly?" The cheerful voice I imagined for the second part made it far more believable.

Men picked up all of my boxes and put them in the back of a van, telling me they would arrive early Wednesday morning. I smiled and waved them off. A train. That's what Belinda had said. I had to catch a train. She had also said I had an uncle. Strange, considering both of my parents were only children, like me. The first, grumpy voice (I had named him Bill) snapped at me.

"Well of cores you don't have an uncle, a great uncle, maybe. But he lives in Australia. He has since 1998. What is the matter with you?" At this point voice number two (called Sarah) joined in.

"Don't be silly, remember your uncle John? Such a nice man. He will be calling your new flat at 7, so you'd better get a move onto the train." Again, for some unknown reason, I listened to Sarah. Picking up the ticket and ID that were sitting on the work top for me, even though I didn't remember putting them there, I set off toward the train station

It had been four hours, twenty-three minutes and eleven seconds since I boarded the train, but it had gone fast. A little too fast. I had felt really sleepy through most of the journey, but something told me to not go to sleep. That it wasn't safe. But what could be dangerous about sleeping? Sleeping was peaceful. I felt my self drifting off.

The ceiling above me was white, just like the sheet covering me. I tried to turn my head to see fully the sharp implements I caught view of in the corner of my eye, but I was stuck. I tried to move my lips but they were sewn shut. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed. A face, half covered with a mint green mask, was leaning over me with a scalpel. He moved his mouth to say something,

"We have arrived at Kings Cross Station, passengers please prepared to disembark."

I woke up sharply, and looked around. There was people standing up and gathering their stuff. I blinked and rubbed my forehead once again. Grabbing a map from a leaflet centre next to me, I stood up too, collected the bag full of stuff I hadn't packed, and set off into a strange city, looking for a place I'd never heard of, haunted by a dream I couldn't fully remember.

Big Ben chimed 6 as I jogged up the steps. The house stood proudly in the centre of a terraced row. The white stone that clad the front was carved with the numbers 128. This was the address, meaning I was going to be the new kid on this very expensive block. How was I, a 17 year old girl, going to pay for this? I rang the door bell, pressing for just less than 6 seconds. After a minute or two of muffled sounds behind the door, it swung open, revealing a woman in her early-forties. She smiled warmly, making her green-blue eyes twinkle.

"You must be Evelyn; your uncle has told me so much about you. He said your moving down here to go to collage, is that correct? My son is starting collage this year too, so I'm expecting you'll get on fine with him."

She opened the door wider, permitting me and my bag to enter through with out causing that much damage to the surrounding ordainments. As I came into the hall an older man took the suitcase I had rested against the banister threw a door, probably taking it to my new room. My new landlady smiled again and offered her hand.

"I'm Wanda. And this," she said motioning behind my head "is my son, Ben." A man-boy of about 17 wandered in. His auburn hair was flicked upwards, like he brushed it out of his eyes a lot. He looked awfully familiar to me. Smiling, he waved and then headed up the ornate stair case at the other end of the hall. Wanda sighed.

"If he ignores you, I'm sorry. Teenage boys!" I giggled. She led me threw the door that my suitcase had disappeared behind. There was another set of stairs, furnished in dark blue carpet, leading upwards. We climbed for maybe two stories before arriving at a large landing.

"This will be your floor. You've got a toilet and a shower, kitchenette but don't worry we'll feed you if you put a little bit towards the weekly shop, a bedroom and a small study. I expect you'll need a lot of room for all the coursework you're bound to be getting at collage. I'll leave you to have a look around and settle on, please come down stairs when you're finished." And with that she went back down the stairs, leaving me in awe of my new lodgings.


	2. We're All Entertainers

Ever since I was 12 years old my main dreams in my life had been simple. Number 1: Meet someone who looks like Johnny Depp or Benedict Cumeberbatch. Number 2: See Nirvana, Oasis or Green Day live. Number 3: Do something that I would be remembered for. None became true in my life at Nottingham. But as I was looking at the boy across the hall, there was a chance that the first one might be a reality.

It was weird feeling a stranger in your own home, but I guessed that all people felt this way when they first move in. I stood in the hallway watching Ben pack his bag for school. He looked at me confused, and then looked behind him.

"Is there something wrong?" I snapped out of my trance where I had been checking out his nicely toned back

"Hmm... What? Sorry, just thinking." Ben made a sound that made me suspect he knew that I had been paying very close attention to his body. He tilted his head to the side and pulled down his shirt that had been riding up little as he leaned over.

"Why aren't you getting ready for school, sorry, what was your name again?"

"Er, Evelyn, and the summer term is almost finished in year 11, so my uncle couldn't get me into the local state schools and didn't see the point of paying £1000 for a term that's almost finished in some snobby local boarding school. Where do you go?" He looked at me straight in the face as I spoke, which made me talk faster and harsher than normal, and didn't move his eyes and he replied.

"Harrow, one of those local snobby private schools." Oh great. I managed to insult him. I didn't mean it.

"I don't mean you're snobby, it's just some of the people there are. They have loads of money. I don't even know how much I've got; I might not even have enough for food, let alone a private school. It's okay anyway. I've already took my GCSEs. I've just got to wait for my bank statement to arrive. Sorry I snapped." Ben sighed and carried on sorting out his bag, not insulted just not interested with me anymore. I picked up my coat and headed for the door.

I had been to London before, enough to know my way from tourist sights to the hotels and stuff, but the area I was in was big and posh. There was no way I had been here before. The street was picture perfect. Even the people who walked the streets looked perfect. Intimidated by the high standard of living where I was, I went towards the city centre. I found my self near Camden Lock, a place I visited before. It was the first place in London I had recognised so far, and I felt more safe and comfortable here.

Walking around the pretty stalls and displays, I wished I had some money, at least to buy a little something to make Ben like me. To busy looking at a little stall selling CDs, walked straight into someone who was getting their stuff together after getting off a bus.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said as I not only knocked his sandwich on the floor, but his guitar case also began falling. I quickly caught it and handed it back.

"Its okay love, but you'll have to buy me a new sandwich. Or a drink. Your choice." I was about to explain that I didn't have any money, so I couldn't pay him or buy him anything, when I realise who I was talking to.

"Oh my God. You're, you're, you're-"

"Hungry." Noel Gallagher interrupted me. I felt my self go red as one of my lifelong heroes stared down at me, sizing me up. I was beginning to feel confused.

"Where's your body guards?" I asked.

"Is this some sort of joke to put the blame on me? I'm supposed to have body guards to stop loonies like you colliding into me? I'm just a normal bloke. "I began to feel very dizzy now. Here was an apparently younger Noel Gallagher who didn't appear to be famous. What was going on? I clutched the table next to me, looking for support as I suddenly felt very sick.

"You alright, love?" He grabbed my arm, helping me into a chair he pulled from a near-by stall. "Okay look at me." He knelt down, looking me straight in the eyes. He held up his fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" I focused on them, blinking as they swam in front of me.

"Urm, hold still. Is there 3?" Noel sighed.

"Nope, there were 2. Thumbs don't count. Okay what's the date today? Day, Month, Year." I thought back to the last time I had seen a calendar.

"21st May 2012" At this, he looked very confused and began to look at the back of my head.

"Has someone gone and hit you over the head when I weren't looking?"

"Why, what is the date? I couldn't have been that far off." He handed me a glass of water that a woman standing near by had been drinking. Inspecting my eyes again, he answered.

"I think you've gone mad, love. Its 21st of May alright, but it aint 2012 yet. Its only 1993."

"1993! What!? No. It's 2012. Is this so sort of joke? I reckon you're the mad one here, Mr Gallagher." He ignored me. Lifting me under my arms, he got me to stand up.

"I would give you a lift, but I've only just got here from Manchester, so how about we walk you home and forget the sandwich? I reckon that's a fair deal." It was a good thing I had remembered to pick up the house keys as Wanda would be out. I had only been gone 4 hours, and she had said she would be gone until 4:30, leaving a good couple of hours till she would be back.

"God, your a right little prissy knickers, aren't ya?" Noel said as we turned into my new street. I had my arm around his neck, so it was easy to slap him around the top of the head. It messed up his hair and he turned to look at me.

"Right that's it." I screamed playfully as he swept me off my feet and ran with me towards the nearest outdoor bin. Tipping me slightly towards the open plastic tub, he grinned naughtily.

"Say you're sorry." All I did was stick my tongue out at him. He shook me just enough for me to have to grab onto his shirt to not fall in.

"This is really mean! I'm not very well, remember?" He laughed as he tipped me in a little bit more. It smelt really bad.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I was screaming for mercy so loud that the next-door-neighbour looked through her net curtains.

"Good." He said as he took me out of the bin and placed me back on the pavement. Well that was the first time I had ever been threatened to be chucked into a dumpster by an almost stranger. Noel was cool though and we got along really well. It was like we knew each other before. I reckon he felt that way too. As we walked up my drive, with a new car sitting in it, he handed me a business card.

"This is the number of the studio I'm going to be working in for the next couple of weeks, call me if you want. I might need a tour guide around old London town." He winked at me and started walking away from me, standing in the door way. I looked down at the card. And then back at him.

"You're working in the studio? Why?" He turned, walking backwards.

"Me, a couple of my mates and my brother are starting a band. An agent picked us up not long ago; we went up to Glasgow and performed a few gigs. I give you a demo tape if you want?" I smiled. He was far enough away for me to have to shout.

"Yeah, I'd like that. What are you called? I mean, your band, what's the name?" I just heard him reply.

"Oasis." Looking down again at the little card for Creation Records, I smiled. Noel Gallagher had just walked me home. This helped me believe a little that I was indeed in 1993. The question was; How did I get here?


	3. With The Lights Out,It's Less Dangerous

Attempting to walk through the front door, I felt a solid obstacle blocking my way. Ben had been sitting behind the door, looking out threw the peep hole. He was now sitting on the floor, looking up at me guilty.

"Enjoy everything you saw?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Who was he? Mum won't want strangers coming to the house. So who was he?" He was stumbling on his words, trying to make me in the wrong when he had been nosing in on my life.

"He's a stranger," I called over my shoulder as I headed up the stairs towards the second floor. "A not so stranger..."

Whilst I had been out, the movers had been in, leaving all of my boxes scattered around the 3rd floor landing. Not knowing what to expect, I opened the first box that caught my eye, a tall one standing against the wall. My thoughts to what it was proved true as I pulled out a guitar. A Gibson no less. The strong red colour of the body reflected onto the surrounding white walls. It was my dream guitar. I held it carefully, not wanted to give it any chance of a mark. I breathed in the smell of polished wood that radiated from it, making me slightly light-headed on the fumes. Somebody obviously loved me, if they had spent their money on this. Gibson weren't cheap.

I turned the guitar over on my knee as I searched the box for a note. On the back was a small sticky note.

"You're going to need this to impress Gallagher. Careful what you play him. - Uncle"

This mysterious uncle was taking good care of me, considering I didn't know who he was. I thought about returning the guitar, how could I trust this man? But as I looked down again over the bodywork I realised there was no way I could give up such an instrument. I placed it on the bed and searched through the other boxes. There was clothes, all echoing a very 90's style that I'm sure didn't come in until at least 1997. CD's including Nirvana, R.E.M, very early Green Day, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Blink 182. There was even a Walkman. At the bottom was a photograph. It was faded, torn and looked like it had been buried, but you could still make out 7 smiling faces on a sunny afternoon. I smiled though I didn't know why. That photo brought back memories I was struggling to remember. It had been April? Or was it May? Ever since I met Noel, I had noticed that the memories slipped silently away. I could remember silly things like when Oasis first made the big time and how many films and TV programs Benedict Cumberbatch had starred in, but I couldn't even put names to the faces on the photo of my best friends. I put it in the back of my chest of draws as tears fell down my face. The door opened and Bens face peered round. He wasn't looking at me, so I came to the conclusion that he was feeling bad for spying.

"I'm sorry for watching you and that man out of the window."

"Well it wasn't out of the window, was it?" I sniffed.

"No it wasn't, but there was screaming and, hang on. Why are you crying?" He walked over and put his arm around me. I stood up and walked away from him, not wanting his sympathy. I couldn't remember why I was crying, so I stopped. Ben sighed and walked out of my room, muttering under his breath.

"That's stupid, crying over me looking at you. Women!"

I rubbed my hands up and down my jeans, comforting myself. My fingers traced a little card in my pocket. Of course! Noel had said he had been working in the studio.

Passing Ben on the stairs as I ran down, I received a sideways glare. Hormones, I told myself. The phone wasn't being used so I picked it up and dialled immediately. It was on the 3rd ring when a posh woman's voice answered.

"Hello, Creation Record Studios, how may I help you?"

"I would like to speak to Mr Noel Gallagher."

"I'm sorry but Mr Gallagher and his band are in a recording at the moment, ill forward your message onto Mr McGee to give to them." I was a little bit annoyed at the fact that I couldn't speak to Mr McGee myself and the woman's annoying voice wasn't helping.

"My message is for Noel. Could he give me a call on this number? In fact it doesn't matter." I put the phone down on the woman as she carried on talking. The yellow pages had just been posted through the door. I noticed a PostIt note sticking out of the top. I turned to the page and saw that the first address on it was none other then Creation Records. I ripped the page out and tucked it in my back pocket, then headed up the stairs to get my guitar.

I saw the woman I was sure I had talked to on the phone sitting at the front desk as I walked into the empty waiting room of Creation Records. I walked over and spoke to her, putting on my best French accent.

"Bonjour, er, I am 'ere to see Alan? 'E signed me not long ago, maybe a month? Excuse Moi, my English is not very good." The woman felt pressured by the fact she didn't understand a word I was saying in the thick accent that she just waved me into the corridor. I walked down, guitar over my shoulder. A group of lads came out of a door; I recognised them as the rest of Oasis and darted into an empty studio. After they were out of sight I walked towards the room they had just came out of, noticing Noel wasn't with them.

A familiar sound reached my ears as I walked in, making me catch my breath. The bittersweet opening chords of Wonderwall took me by surprise. I didn't want to make my presence known too soon as the pencil and paper that was sat in front of Noel gave me a clue that he was writing. I was here, watching one of my favourite songs of all time being written. And I thought meeting the man himself would be a treat enough. He stopped strumming and picked up the pencil, scribbling a few words down, then took the plectrum out of his mouth again.

"Today is going to be the be the day that I'm going to fall in love with you,

But you don't love me and there's nothing that I can do,

The words that I wanna say don't come out to you now."

Along way to go, Mr Gallagher, not even the tune is right. I thought to myself. As he put down the pick again to edit his work, I walk around the speakers where I had been hiding.

"Hey Noel." He looked up, pick between his teeth and smiled. It softened his usually frowning face dramatically.

"Hey up, how d 'you get in here? It's invited personal only."

"I'll explain later." I walked over and sat on an amp next to him. "What was that you were just playing?" He looked at his sheet of paper and then scrunched it up.

"That, my dear, was the kind of shit I write every day." I took the paper out of his hand and opened it up. The lyrics were near enough the same minus the bridge and the second verse. I smiled to myself at the idea that I was holding the best love song of a whole generation in my hands and the genius behind it was calling it shit.

"Its good and the chords look easy, here," I took my guitar out of the case and plugged it in. Minus all the distortion that I knew it was capable of, it sounded like an acoustic, well almost. I began playing the opening chords. "Today is going to be the day, how about that there going to throw me back to you?" Noel thought it over for a minute, smiled and then picked up the paper out of my hands and write away for a couple of minutes. When I looked back I knew what I was going to see. The first written version of the Wonderwall that the world would love, ever. This time when Noel started playing a new vibe emitted from him. Even as he sang the familiar words, there was something different about here him singing it instead of Liam's unique snarl.

"Today

Is gunna be the day

That there gunna throw me back to you.

By now

You should have somehow

Realised what you gotta do.

I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now."

Just as he started into the chorus guards rushed in followed by the receptionist, Adam McGee and Oasis. They stood there looking at me and Noel as he serenaded me. We looked shocked at them and began gathering ourselves together as we spoke, me in my French accent again.

"Sorry boss, just had to run over a couple of things-"

"Pardon, pardon. Noel 'ere is a very good friend of mine. 'E is 'elping Moi with ma music." Noel looked at me confused, but luckily had the sense to carry on speaking to his boss and band.

"Little missy here wanted me to help her with her guitar career. I reckon she quite good actually. Worth a listen." It was my turn to looked shocked as the gazes of around 15 people fell on me and my guitar. "Go on, love, play us something."

"Er, I am not finished. I have nothing to play." I stuttered, still French. They didn't stop looking at me, so I settled for an easy song from my childhood. The G chord started up and every one prepared themselves for the song.

"A very old friend,

Came by today

And he was telling every one in town

Of the love that he had found

And Marie's the name, of his latest flame."

I had grown up listening to Elvis Presley's music, so all the effort was into remembering the lyrics. I closed my eyes as I sang. When I opened them, Adam McGee was holding out a small business card to me.

"Call me in the morning; I see big things for you." Every one walked away again, leaving Noel and me alone once more. Noel turned to me and looked me full in the face. I was beginning to feel a little bit intimidated by his strong face.

"Why were you speaking in a French accent?" I laughed.

"I'll explain as you walk me home." Winking, I walked out of the studio, guitar on my back, followed by the man behind Britpop. It was no surprise that I felt on top of the world.


End file.
